Page 13 of Dirty Deal

Now she’s in my bedroom, dusting the lamp on my nightstand while I lean against the wall, my arms folded and jaw set. Restless anger churns in my chest, and my eyes are dry from lack of blinking.

Because Lena Merritt is in myspace.My personal, most private space, where no one else has ever set foot. Why the hell did I do this to myself? What did I hope to prove?

She’s touching my belongings; she’s humming under her breath as she cleans. The floral scent of her shampoo will linger in the air forweeks.I’ll never get her out of my lungs.

Meanwhile, a traitorous part of my brain is fuckingthrilledto have Lena here, all mine for a few hours. Mine to look at. Mine to covet. Mine to resent and lust after in equal measure.

It’s the same primal part of my brain that can’t stop picturing Lena spread out on top of my bed covers. Or bent over the bookcase in the living room, or naked and braced against my shower tiles. The details hardly matter; all my idiot caveman brain wants isLena, Lena, Lena.

If she knew she had this power over me, everything would be ruined. I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror ever again.

“You missed a bit,” I say when Lena straightens up, ready to move on to something else. Truthfully, there’s not a single speckof dust left on that nightstand, but I’m being a prick. Pulling on Lena’s metaphorical pigtails.

She rolls her eyes, but bends over the nightstand again.

“You have to admit this is a strange kink,” Lena says idly, like we’re discussing the weather. “Getting your ex boss’s daughter to clean your apartment.”

I stroke my chin, stubble rasping against my palm. “Makes perfect sense to me.”

“Why?” She straightens up and rounds the bed to dust the other nightstand. “What’s the end goal here, Weston? You humiliate me for five nights. Then what?”

Isn’t it obvious?

“Then I never see you or your parents again. The next time you get yourselves in trouble, you’ll know better than to crawl to me.”

“I’m not crawling,” Lena mutters, then slides me a sly smile. “Yet.”

Thud. Thud.If my heart beats any harder, it’ll punch through my rib cage. My posture is casual where I lean against the wall, but the second Lena comes close, she’ll see that my muscles are tensed beneath my tailored suit.

“I thought that was off limits.”

The duster flutters across the nightstand, brushing away invisible specks of dust. I have a cleaner, so this whole task is symbolic rather than actually helpful. Whatever.

“It’s not off limits,” Lena says, dusting a stack of three hardback books. “It’s just not part of our five night torture bargain.”

Fuck. What doesthatmean?

Does she want this too? Or is Lena messing with me? Finding my weak spot and prodding it like a bruise?

Hell, even if she does want me too, it’s a bad idea. Like folks who sit down at a roulette table and finally feel alive for the first time—a single taste of Lena Merritt could be ruinous for me.

But when she turns and strolls closer, I don’t tell her to step back. Don’t put some distance between us, even though I’m stiff as a board. No, I wait, breath held in my lungs, as Lena grins up at me and tickles the feather duster down the center of my chest. My abs twitch beneath my shirt, and the touch is so ticklish my back teeth grind.

“What do you think?” Lena says. Her glossy hair is in a ponytail again, her honey brown eyes fringed with dark lashes. She’s teasing me, lips curled in a smile, but there’s an edge to her words too. A challenge. “Wanna take a break from your whole brooding bad guy act, Weston? No offense, but I’m sure this will only take a minute.”

Ha.I shouldn’t find her funny.

My head shakes slowly. “You’d never slum it with a man like me, princess.”

Lena blows out an amused breath. “Wouldn’t I? Look.”

She tosses the duster down to the rug, then drops smoothly to her knees. The green fabric of her dress fans out around her on the floor, and Christ, the sight of Lena Merritt’s pert nose mere inches from my zipper makes my whole body flush hot. I glare down at her, so furious and so, so turned on.

“Get up,” I snap. I’m off kilter, the power dynamics suddenly thrown upside down.

“I will,” Lena says, hooking one finger over the leather strap of my belt. My muscle twitches where the back of her knuckle brushes me through my shirt. “But I’m offering this first. If you want it.”

She is? My hands ball into fists at my sides and squeeze so hard the bones creak. “Why?”

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